Loving Grayson ✓ (Book 2, the Hating Series)

12

Grayson

A shove to the ribs wakes me from my recurring nightmare—No, not a nightmare, A memory. A memory of when I was struck by a drunk driver, which then had resulted in me being comatose, and later, incapable of doing the one thing I had always wanted to do.

Become a football star.

I am not sure what I will do with my life now...

"Arghhh! What?" I groaned, still half asleep.

"Get up! Classes are starting today." Says Mitchell.

"I thought classes didn't start until tomorrow?" I muttered.

"It's already tomorrow, idiot."

Shit.

Reluctantly, I get up and seat myself on the bed with my feet on the floor.

College hasn't even technically started yet and I already fucking hate it. The only reason I even decided to come to college was to be closer to Dallas, who currently wasn't talking to me.

I guess he has a good reason to be ignoring me, I mean, I did act like a complete dick the other night.

"Are you okay? You look like you might be sick."

I felt like it too. My forehead was currently burning, and my entire body felt slick with sweat.

"Just had a bad dream." I say, forcing myself off of the bed so that I could have a shower.

Dallas

"Welcome to English 101," The professor stood at the front of the classroom, looking sternly up at his students. "I will be your professor for this academic year, Professor Gerard Dickinson."

He looked rather young for a professor, yet, everything about his name could've easily lead me to believe that he was a hundred years old with a beard that resembled Santa's. But there he is, standing at the front of the classroom, looking as if he was in his early thirties, though, I doubt that would be the case.

"He's kinda hot." I hear Hannah say from beside me.

"Gross, Hannah. He's our professor." I tell her, rolling my eyes.

"I'm sorry, it appears we have a rebel in our class." Professor Dickinson is looking straight at me, almost as if he were peering into my soul.

Fuck.

"Sorry, sir." I say, feeling my face blush with embarrassment.

"No, by all means, feel free to share with the rest of us what you were whispering about."

Uh....

He can't be serious.

"Oh... um. I, uh..." First class of college and I had already fucked it up, great.

"We can wait." He says, taking a seat and crossing his arms.

No.

There is no way I am repeating what was just said.

I suppose I could just make up an entertaining story?

But what about?

Everyone was currently staring at me, which made me feel uneasy.

"I'm sorry professor, it was my fault." Hannah says, standing up.

Oh?

"Well, are you going to inform the class of what you and your shy friend were discussing?" He wondered.